


Like Music to Thine Excited Ear

by Astyanassa



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Aural Kink, M/M, PWP, Wet sex kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-29
Updated: 2011-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astyanassa/pseuds/Astyanassa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:  "Arthur finds the wet, slapping sounds of sex extremely obscene and extremely arousing. Auditory kink."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Music to Thine Excited Ear

The first clue, Merlin misses entirely.

He’s still so new to this, having done it only a few times and even then, only ever for Arthur. So when he misjudges on the upstroke, his cheeks hollowed from the suction, and Arthur’s cock accidentally pops out of his mouth with a loud, extremely wet-sounding slurp, Merlin feels the heat of embarrassment warming his face.

He’s waiting for Arthur to make some teasing comment about his inexperience and complete lack of finesse with this sort of thing, but Arthur doesn’t show any contempt, rather he grunts loudly, quickly reinserts his dick into Merlin’s waiting mouth, and promptly lets fly his release down Merlin’s throat.

Merlin chokes a bit and swallows best he can. When Arthur’s finished and has withdrawn from Merlin’s mouth in a slow, wet slide, Merlin uses the back of his sleeve to wipe away the come and drool that trickle from the corner of his mouth and thinks that it’s lucky for him that Arthur was already too far gone, apparently, to even notice Merlin’s ineptitude.

After, Arthur seems unusually gentle, petting Merlin’s hair and kissing him almost tenderly, and Merlin thinks that maybe Arthur _did_ notice and is taking pity on him and that if that’s the case, it’s no wonder he’s so arse-over-heels about Arthur.  


\---

The second clue gives Merlin a moment of pause, to be sure, but in the end he attributes the incident to the wrong thing entirely.

Arthur’s favorite mare is in heat and Bayard has recently made a gift to Camelot of one of his finest stallions, so Arthur has recruited Merlin to assist him with the breeding.

Once Merlin has the thick blanket securely fastened round Llamrei’s back to protect her from the stallion's hooves, Arthur leads the male, Hengroen by name, to her rear where the animal wastes no time, rising gracefully onto strong hindquarters and mounting her with ease.

When Hengroen slides his rather prodigious appendage into the patiently waiting mare, Merlin looks away, blushing. Raised on the farmlands of Ealdor, he’s seen horses coupling many times, but never while standing next to the man who, just last night, had covered his back the same way Hengroen was covering Llamrei’s now. Intently, he studies a fly that’s landed on the ceiling above his head -- the shimmery green of its wings is _fascinating_ , really -- until he hears Arthur’s low chuckling.

Merlin hazards a look at Arthur to find him shaking his head and looking at Merlin with an indulgent sort of smile. “Honestly, Merlin,” he laughs.

“It’s just a bit… _awkward_ , don’t you think?” Merlin says with an embarrassed grin. “Maybe some candles?”

Arthur looks at him, nonplussed. “What?”

“Some flower petals strewn about?” Merlin adds and the confusion on Arthur’s face breaks and he laughs. “Poor things,” Merlin says. “Maybe we should fetch the court musician and have him play a gentle tune on his lute for them.”

“Idiot,” Arthur mutters, but it sounds fond and he’s still smiling.

Hengroen is thrusting away in long, powerful lunges, unconcerned by Merlin’s nonsense or Llamrei’s indignant whinnies, and Merlin squirms a bit remembering the way Arthur had lunged into him the night before in a very similar way. It’s not like he could forget; he’s still feeling it today with every step he takes. The memory begins to get a rise out of Merlin, but he wills it down, glancing over to see that Arthur doesn’t seem affected at all by any of this.

Just then, Llamrei decides she’s had just about enough of Hengroen’s foolishness and she tries to move forward. Hengroen loses a beat and has to shift his massive body and when he resumes his thrusting, it’s accompanied by a rather wet, squelchy sound, loud in the close quarters of the stable.

The sound doesn’t abate; it seems to get louder and, well, squelchier with each thrust and it’s all quite _obscene_ , Merlin thinks. He’s about to begin looking for another fly to study when he senses movement from Arthur and looks over to see that Arthur has gone very red in the face. Arthur clears his throat and shifts a bit and another quick glance down shows Merlin that Arthur’s breeches are beginning to look tented.

Hengroen gives one last lunge, then withdraws with a final, obscene ‘ _schluuurrrp_ ’ and Merlin is almost certain that he hears Arthur murmur, “Oh, dear god.”

Arthur immediately turns his back to Merlin, rather hunched in on himself, and begins leading Hengroen away.

“Arthur,” Merlin begins, but Arthur keeps his head down and waves an arm irritably back in his direction.

“Do shut up, Merlin,” he says in a rough voice. “And tend to Llamrei for me, will you?”

Merlin shrugs and thinks that Arthur is over-reacting to the whole thing. It’s a bit embarrassing, yeah, but it’s not like Arthur is the first man to ever get aroused watching a hearty rutting, though why it didn’t get to Arthur until the very end, he couldn’t say.  


\---

The third clue is what makes the pieces finally slot into place.

That night, after Merlin undresses Arthur, Arthur returns the favor which has become Merlin’s cue that he’s needed for services of a more carnal nature, a ‘duty’ that he’s perfectly happy to perform. His tumbles with Arthur have easily become the best part of his day.

This is the first time Arthur has required him two nights in a row, however, and as he’s still a bit sore from the previous evening, Merlin is slightly concerned. A half hour later, he realizes he needn’t have worried. Arthur must have some inkling of Merlin’s state, because he’s been in no hurry; no hurry _at all_ as he arranged Merlin on his back, across the bed, and then stretched out atop him, kissing and rubbing against him in so leisurely a fashion that Merlin thinks he could fall asleep if he weren’t so achingly hard.

But Arthur is stone-hard, too, and Merlin feels his body clench a little when Arthur rises and knee-walks across the bed to lean over and fetch the little bottle of oil resting on the cabinet. He comes back, settling on his haunches between Merlin’s legs, and he must notice the wary expression on Merlin’s face because he says, “All right?” And when his oiled fingertip reaches between Merlin’s legs, down beneath his bollocks, burrowing into Merlin’s crack to lightly press against his hole and Merlin flinches, Arthur says, in a husky voice, “Sore?”

Merlin, cheeks flushed pink, nods and Arthur bends down to kiss him. “I’ll be careful.” Arthur’s true to his word, Merlin thinks, as he gently circles Merlin’s arsehole with one oily fingertip, round and round, before slipping just the tip inside with excruciating slowness. He slowly works more of his finger inside Merlin and when he’s finally all the way in, he looks at Merlin, eyebrows raised in question. Merlin nods again and Arthur smiles and begins to slide the finger back out, then back in, rubbing against _that_ spot with each inward slide, until Merlin’s head is rocking against the pillow and he’s panting.

Arthur leans over to kiss Merlin’s neck and nuzzle at his ear, murmuring, “Spread your legs a bit more,” and then helps by nudging Merlin’s legs further apart himself with his knees. While Arthur’s right hand continues moving between Merlin’s buttock cheeks, his left strokes Merlin’s flank, up and down and back up again a few times before giving the side of Merlin’s arse a light slap and saying, “Raise your legs for me, Merlin,” and Merlin, completely lust-muddled, complies without another thought. “That’s it.”

Watching Merlin’s face intently, Arthur begins trying to wriggle a second finger in beside the first and when he catches Merlin briefly screwing his face up in discomfort, he stops, carefully sliding his fingers out. “More oil?” he asks hopefully, and Merlin nods so quickly and frantically that Arthur feels reasonably certain he isn’t pressuring Merlin into something he doesn’t actually want.

Merlin is _so_ enthusiastic, in fact, that as Arthur is struggling to pull the cork from the bottle with slippery fingers, Merlin, his face bright red and eyes squeezed tightly shut, reaches down and begins rubbing his hole himself, letting one fingertip slip in and pull just a bit at the rim.

“Good god… you’re… look at you,” Arthur manages to stutter out and just then, the cork gives way, the bottle tilts, and Arthur has far too much oil on his fingers and, well, _everywhere_ , really. He begins looking for something to sop up the excess with, but he hears a groan and looks up to find Merlin watching him, eyes huge and dark and desperate.

“Leave it, Arthur,” he says in a shaky voice. “It might help.”

Arthur’s never seen Merlin quite like this, so… _wanton_ , and it makes his cock throb and twitch to see it. But he takes a deep breath and moves slowly, gently, slipping first one, then another finger into Merlin and stroking carefully. Merlin falls back against the pillow and sighs with pleasure and Arthur thinks, _Patience, patience… almost there now_ , and then something unanticipated happens.

His fingers are moving in and out effortlessly because there’s _so much oil_ and on an outward slide of his fingers, Merlin’s hole clenches and Arthur hears a slick, wet, sucking sort of sound and he stills abruptly. He slides his fingers in again, then back out, experimentally, and just as before, it smacks wetly. He continues – in and out, in and out – and leans in even closer to watch his fingers moving slickly through Merlin’s dripping hole. When he breathes out, a bit shakily, “Oh, that’s just… that’s so… ,” Merlin can feel Arthur's warm breath on his arse.

Arthur suddenly slips his fingers free and sits up, asking through clenched teeth, “Do you think you can take me now, Merlin?”

Merlin raises his head and looks at Arthur, nodding. “I think so.” Arthur’s face, neck, and chest are a deep, dark red, a bead of sweat is trickling down his temple, and his muscles are trembling with the effort of holding himself in check. “Yes. It’s all right, Arthur,” Merlin says and braces himself as Arthur takes an ankle in each hand and pushes, raising Merlin’s arse right up off the bed.

Merlin can feel Arthur’s dick nudging at his hole and Arthur lets go of one of Merlin’s ankles to take himself in hand and guide his prick in. Even with the copious amounts of oil, the stretch burns and aches, but Merlin closes his eyes and silently calls up his magic to ease the way. The spell makes Merlin a bit looser, makes everything a bit wetter, and when Arthur next thrusts, there’s a loud, wet squelch and Merlin thinks of the breeding horses, embarrassed and rather horrified to discover that his arsehole sounds just like Llamrei’s twat.

His face burning, Merlin opens his mouth to say ‘sorry’ for sounding like Arthur’s broodmare, but before he can get a word out, he’s interrupted by Arthur’s deep, trailing, shuddering _groan_ , and then Arthur’s pounding into him, hard and fast. The sound of wet squelching is loud and relentless and with each thrust, Arthur seems to grow more excited, more frantic, and that’s when it _clicks_ for Merlin, and he understands, breathing out a soft, " _Oh_...".

With every thrust, Arthur’s muttering, “Sorry… Merlin, hurt you… don’t want to hurt…,” but Merlin tells him that it’s fine, that he’s all right, and relieved, Arthur pounds away that much harder. They’ve both worked up a sweat and with every thrust, Arthur’s thighs are slapping loudly and wetly against Merlin’s arse cheeks and they’re both gasping and moaning loud enough, Merlin fears, to bring down the whole of Camelot.

Even with his spell, the relentless friction and Arthur’s girth is rubbing and stretching Merlin to his limits and he bites his lip, convulsively clenches fistfuls of the bed coverings, and prays that he’s not going to have to suffer the humiliation of asking Gaius for a healing salve later, because Gaius will certainly want to know what’s wrong; he’ll probably even ask to see Merlin’s ‘injury’ (a thought that makes Merlin’s erection wilt slightly for just a moment) and, Merlin thinks, even if Gaius _doesn’t_ ask questions, he’s a very wise old man and Merlin has no doubt that he’ll know _exactly_ what Merlin wants the salve for.

Arthur’s hips have lost all rhythm and from his sporadic, jerky thrusts, Merlin knows he’s close. Merlin’s hovering at the edge himself and his cock hasn’t even been touched, but then when he _does_ think of it and takes himself in hand, he barely manages a half dozen strokes before he’s spurting onto his and Arthur’s bellies and chests.

Then Arthur looks down, looks to where he and Merlin are joined and watches his prick slide wetly in, out, in and then goes suddenly still and Merlin can feel Arthur pulsing within him. When he’s spent, Merlin feels Arthur’s prick slide free and a trickle of warm wetness dribbles from his hole.

Arthur rolls over and collapses beside Merlin, kissing Merlin’s shoulder as he slides the palm of his hand through the mess of come on Merlin’s belly. Merlin shifts and rises a bit, and as he twists, trying to get his mouth close enough to Arthur’s to kiss him, his body betrays him by releasing several very wet-sounding bubbles of air. He slams his eyes shut, his cheeks instantly bloom red, and he whispers, “Oh, god,” as he rolls onto his back and throws his arm over his eyes.

Beside him, Arthur is, well… _giggling_ is really the only way to describe the high-pitched ‘ _hee hee_ ’ noises coming from him and if Merlin weren’t utterly humiliated at the moment, he’d definitely tease Arthur about it.

“Oh, come on, Merlin,” Arthur says, laughing and tugging at the arm Merlin’s hiding behind. “It’s not that bad. Bound to happen occasionally, right?”

Merlin huffs. “Well, it’s never happened to _you_ , has it?”

Finally pulling Merlin’s arm free, Arthur leans over and kisses him, soft and deep, until Merlin relaxes. When the kiss ends, Arthur says, “I’ll make it up to you next time.”

Merlin lets out another little huff of air. “Yeah, how?”

“Candles?” Arthur asks and when Merlin rolls over onto his side, away from Arthur, Arthur laughs and pokes him. “Flower petals strewn about?”

Merlin sighs and says, “I’m never having sex with you again,” but Arthur only laughs again and slings an arm over Merlin’s waist, plastering himself against Merlin’s back and holding him close. It’s quiet for a moment and Merlin thinks Arthur’s done, then…

“I’ve got it! Lute music!” Arthur exclaims excitedly. “Lovely, lovely lute music.” he says, and then laughs some more.

“Shut up, Arthur,” Merlin mutters but Arthur can hear the smile in his voice.


End file.
